


Will You, Sherlock Holmes?

by Caslocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:44:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2161113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caslocked/pseuds/Caslocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young detective is injured while on a case, but he knows that John will always be by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You, Sherlock Holmes?

“Damn it, Sherlock, quit struggling!”

“I can make it up a flight of stairs, John, I am not incompetent!”

“No, but you are out of your mind if you think I’m going to let you walk by yourself with a knife sticking out of you!” John snapped, one arm around his friends waist, the other holding onto Sherlock's arm slung around his shoulders. The climb was slow, made slower by the young detectives uncanny ability to make everything difficult. Eventually they made it up the stairs to John’s room, John managing to open the door to ease Sherlock gingerly onto his mattress.

“My house was closer, why didn’t we go there?” Sherlock grumbled.

“Because you don’t have a first aid kit, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t want Mycroft to see you.” At this the young detective let out an approving hum, which turned into a hiss of pain. John let out a curse, searching through his room for his first aid kit.

“Mycroft would have done something terribly boring, like send me to a hospital.” John wasn’t facing Sherlock, but he could practically hear the younger boy’s scowl from where he sat.

“God forbid the man sends you to get proper medical attention.” John chuckled, finally fishing out the first aid kit from his sock drawer. How the hell it’d gotten there, he had no clue. He made his way over to Sherlock, sitting down beside him on the bed.

“They’re all idiots.”

“Their degree would suggest otherwise.” John pointed out, rummaging through the kit for gauze and dressing. He fished out a clean towel from the large kit, sending a silent thanks to his grandmother for being so thoughtful with her Christmas gifts.

“You don’t have a degree, and you do well enough.”

“That was almost a compliment.” John smirked. “So thank you.” John narrowed his eyes at the blade sticking out of Sherlock’s right shoulder. It wasn’t a deep wound, thankfully, the blade only a small pocket knife. John gently worked Sherlock’s coat off him, his friend’s hisses of pain causing him to stop.

“Maybe we should have gone to a hospital.”

“John, I am fine. It’s not the first time you’ve fixed me up.”

“No, but definitely the first time I’ve had to patch up a stab wound!”

“It wouldn’t have happened if Lestrade had gotten me into that crime scene himself.” The young detective huffed.

“Sherlock, Lestrade just got out of the Academy. He doesn’t have any influence as a new officer.” John pointed out, gently touching the handle of the knife. “Okay, I’m going to pull it out on three, yeah?” John looked up at Sherlock, the boy nodding quickly. “Right. One……..Two……” With a steady motion, he pulled out the knife, Sherlock releasing a shout of pain as John quickly put down the knife for the clean towel, applying pressure to the bleeding wound.

“You said three!” Sherlock gasped painfully, glaring.

“And you said you’d be careful!” John shot back. “Honestly, Sherlock,” He continued, softer. “I head off to Uni next year, and I won’t be able to be there every time some serial killer with a knife tries to kill you.” Sherlock said nothing, staying silent as John continued to hold the towel in place. After a while, John lifted the towel at one corner, pleased to see the bleeding had stopped. He set the towel aside and unrolled some gauze, holding it in one hand. Now came the awkward part.

“Um, I need to wrap the wound, Sherlock.” Sherlock nodded quickly, moving to unbutton his shirt at the collar. John looked away, busying himself with the gauze until Sherlock had at last removed the shirt. When John looked up, he was faced with Sherlock’s pale torso, the beginnings of muscles beginning to appear due to Sherlock’s habit of chasing after the criminals. John swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away when he realized that he’d been staring at his friend. Pinning the gauze down with one hand, he began to wrap it under and around his arm, making sure it was tight, but not too confining so as to let the wound breath a little. Noticing Sherlock’s silence, John glanced up at the unusually quiet boy.

“You know it won’t change anything, me going off to Uni.” He murmured, continuing to wrap the wound. “I’ll be home in the summers, and we’ll have loads of cases then. Nothing’s really going to change.”

“Everything will change!” Sherlock exploded, surprising John with his intensity. “You’ll be away, studying to be a doctor in some hospital, and I’ll be stuck here without….” Sherlock snapped his mouth shut, looking spooked by his own outburst. John searched his face, trying to get Sherlock to look at him.

“Sherlock.” John prompted, forcing the younger boy to look at him. “Without what?” Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, his long lashes lightly touching his high cheekbones. When they opened again, John was overwhelmed with the intensity they held, a strong sadness that he’d never known Sherlock to have ever expressed.

“You.” He murmured, in that low timbre his voice had. John felt a pull in his gut, eyes roaming over his friend’s face.

“Sherlock?” John whispered, his throat tight. Sherlock looked at him, the two friends holding each other’s gaze for what seemed like a lifetime, each of them unwilling, and unable, to break away. John felt himself lean in slightly, shifting closer. “Sherlock, can I…..is it alright if I..” John glanced at Sherlock’s lips, trying to ask but words failing him. John had never known Sherlock to date anyone, or even be interested in someone romantically. But paired with the uncertainty, that he was sure was mirrored in his own eyes, he could see the same want. Sherlock nodded quickly, John leaning in closer still, until their lips brushed gently. It was a chaste kiss, a quick touch of lips before John pulled back slightly, making sure Sherlock wasn’t freaking out. Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes, closing the distance between them. The kiss was warm and soft, John scooting closer to Sherlock and placing a hand behind his head. The kiss became more desperate, John teasing his tongue against Sherlock’s bottom lip, the younger boy immediately parting his lips to let John in. John carded his hand through Sherlock’s curls, pleased at the soft moan that followed. John brought up his other hand to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder, when the other boy broke away with a yelp. John felt confusion, until he remembered why they were even here.  
“Geez, Sherlock, your shoulder!”

“It’s fine, John!”

“I’m so sorry!” The two boys looked at each other and burst into hysterics, laughing loudly at the unbelievable situation. John clutched his stomach, trying to quell the laughter before he fell off the bed. Eventually they quieted down, laughter fading into soft chuckles. John pushed himself against the wall the bed touched, leaning against it and patting the space next to him. Sherlock quirked a smile, sliding over and sitting close to John against the wall.

“So..” John breathed out, glancing at the detective out of the corner of his eye.

“So.” Sherlock nodded.

“Do I have to ask Mycroft permission to take you on a date?” John smiled at him, only half joking. Sherlock seemed to consider it before replying.

“Not if we don’t tell him.”

“Won’t he find out anyway?”

“That will be his treat then, won’t it?” John smiled, chuckling.

“John?”

“Yes?”

“You still need to ask _me_ though.” John laughed happily, turning to look fully at Sherlock.

“Sherlock Holmes.” He laid a gentle kiss on his injured shoulder, feeling the goosebumps beneath his lips. “Will you please..” He kissed Sherlock’s bare collarbone, delighting in the sharp intake of breath. “Go out with me?” He breathed the last words into his ear, nuzzling with his nose. Sherlock let out a hum of agreement, turning to capture John’s lips.


End file.
